


Hot Blooded

by veronamay



Series: Stripper!Jared 'Verse [2]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys have getting-to-know-you coffee, and come to an agreement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Blooded

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write sequels or 'verses or any of that, okay? Except, apparently, when I do. Just ... don't go getting all excited, because I have no idea if this rush of inspiration will last. It's so not my style, yo. But in any case, this is for [](http://strippedpink.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://strippedpink.livejournal.com/)**strippedpink** , whose porn-fu has beaten mine into submission without even trying, hence there is little to no actual porn in this fic. Enjoy anyway, Lindsay! ♥

Less than five minutes later Jared was back, a red and white plaid flannel shirt hiding that gorgeous body from view, a brown cord jacket slung over one shoulder. Jensen had retrieved his hat from the shadows of the alley, was twirling it on his fingers while he smoked. He stilled when he saw Jared re-emerge from the club, looking even hotter than anyone had a right to.

"I think you dropped something," Jensen said, offering the hat, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. Jared took it with a smile, settling it back on his head.

"I think I picked up something better," he replied, his gaze raking over Jensen's body with palpable heat, and Jensen couldn't help the flush that spread over him. Jared was a born flirt; that much was clear. He supposed he'd have to get used to that, if they were going to keep seeing each other.

"Uh," he said, "... thanks?"

"You're welcome." Jared blinked, and his smile widened. "You know, I don't even know your name."

"Oh. Uh. It's Jensen," he said. "Ackles." He held out his hand, feeling utterly ridiculous. He'd just had that hand inside Jared's _ass_ , for God's sake.

"It's real nice to meet you, Jensen," Jared drawled, taking Jensen's hand and twining their fingers together. He seemed content to hold it like that, not moving, just looking at Jensen with that warm green gaze like he had all night and nothing better to do with it.

The reality of the situation hit Jensen all at once. He'd had sex with a stripper. Oh, God.

And he wanted to do it again. Right fucking now.

Oh, _Jesus_.

"Something wrong?"

Jared was looking at him quizzically, his head tilted to one side, and Jensen's eyes fixed on the exposed skin of his neck. It looked soft and smooth and waiting to be licked, nibbled, nipped, chafed with his stubble until it glowed pink with the friction. Oh, yeah; friction was a _good_ idea; Jensen wanted to rub his face over every part of Jared, touch and smell and taste and take it all in until he was drunk with lust, completely intoxicated. He wanted Jared's hands back on him, running rough and hard over his body, urging him closer with a desperate grip, pulling him in close and tight until they couldn't breathe for being pressed together. He wanted to ride Jared's thigh, fondle him from his tousled silky hair to his absurdly beautiful feet, and fuck him six ways to Sunday in between. He wanted that huge, pretty cock wet and dripping for him, wanted Jared _whining_ to get inside him, wanted them sprawled over each other on a king-size bed with nothing between them but air.

"Jensen?"

He blinked, focusing on Jared's face, feeling his flush intensify until he was surely glowing bright red in the near-dark. He met Jared's gaze, letting him see everything he was thinking, and his cock ached with sudden hardness when Jared's eyes went wide and dark in about half a second and his fingers tightened on Jensen's.

"What do you say we skip that coffee?" Jensen rasped, feeling unlike himself. "My place isn't far from here. I could ... make you breakfast in bed."

 _I could_ be _breakfast in bed_ , he wanted to say, but something stopped him at the last minute. It sounded too sleazy, and stripper or no, Jared wasn't a sleazy guy.

Jared went still, his body angled toward the street. He drew in a sharp breath and stared back at Jensen, tension thrumming between them, twanging every nerve Jensen possessed. He swallowed, watching Jared lick his lips, imagining them stretched wide and wet around his cock.

"I ..." Jared stammered, drawing his hand back. "Uh. I – Jensen, I ..."

He looked unsettled, and Jensen wanted to take back his words. The guy was clearly uncomfortable for some reason, though he couldn't figure out why. It wasn't like they didn't know what they wanted, for God's sake. Or at least, Jensen knew ...

He suddenly wasn't so sure about Jared. A sick feeling spread through him, stomach dropping as he realised what Jared was about to say.

"Never mind," he said hastily. "Forget it. Let's go get that coffee, huh?"

He smiled, trying for friendly and detached, already dreading the awkwardness that was sure to come. He knew how the scene would go: coffee, stilted small talk, a brush-off disguised as a vague promise to call. This was the reason he'd stopped trying to pick up, after all. He hated playing the game of quick fucks. It wasn't fun anymore, it wasn't satisfying, and he'd rather go without than suffer this kind of letdown every time.

Jared relaxed, his shoulders losing their stiffness as he stepped forward ... and kept on coming, backing Jensen up against the wall again, leaning in to surround him with arms and legs.

"I wanna get something straight here," Jared said, his voice a low rumble in Jensen's ear. He nuzzled along Jensen's neck, nipping softly under his ear before pulling back to meet Jensen's eyes. "I like you a whole lot, Jensen. I hate to buck the stereotype, but I don't fuck every guy I see in there." He jerked his head toward the club, never breaking his gaze. "But I've done it enough to recognise something better when I find it. And when I find it, I try not to fuck it up."

"Better?" Jensen repeated, entirely lost.

Jared freed his fingers and brought his hands up to frame Jensen's jaw. He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Jensen's mouth.

"Better," he said softly. "I said I didn't want this to be just about fucking, Jensen, and I meant it." He pulled back then, leaving Jensen feeling cold and already, somehow, alone. "If that's not what you want, say so now before I go gettin' my hopes up."

Hopes. Jared had _hopes_. Jensen felt like whooping.

"Uh," he said. "Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I hope ... Yeah. Okay." He pressed his lips together to stop himself babbling, and took a deep breath. "Coffee sounds good," he said firmly, and Jared's blinding smile rendered him speechless again.

"Okay then," Jared said, and stepped away. His hand found Jensen's again, quite naturally, and they fell into step as they walked out of the alley.

* * *

The coffee was _awesome_.

It wasn't much of a place to look at from the outside, but the second he stepped inside the diner Jensen felt himself start to unwind a little. The place smelled homey and warm and somehow familiar, though maybe that was just the ubiquitous bacon-and-maple-syrup smell that characterised every good diner he'd ever been in. Jared grinned at his deep inhale and dragged him over to a booth in the corner, away from the windows.

"Coffee?" said a friendly voice to Jensen's left, and he looked up to see a middle-aged waitress with greying hair holding a pot in one hand and two mugs in the other. He nodded, knowing he'd regret it when he was still awake at six a.m. and had to be at work by eight-thirty, but not caring after he took the first sip.

"Oh, wow," he said, diving back in for a second taste. "Oh, _man_."

"Told you," Jared said, his grin widening.

He paused to take a swallow from his own mug, but his eyes never left Jensen's face. It was a heady combination: the perfect intake of caffeine and Jared, and Jensen thought he could be perfectly happy to sit here for the next millennium or so.

"I think I'm in love," Jensen mumbled without thinking, nose-deep in his mug, then felt himself blush so hot it was actually painful. _Oh, brilliant. Great. Very smooth, Ackles._ He risked a glance at Jared – maybe he hadn't heard – and found green cat-eyes looking back at him, warm and open, and his heart jumped a little.

"We'll see," was all Jared said, but his voice was velvety-soft, and his fingers tightened on Jensen's across the table.

The conversation turned more neutral after that, both of them taking a step back from the acknowledged tension in the air. Jensen felt half relieved; he'd never felt this kind of attraction, never so fast, and the chance to sit back and let himself think awhile was welcome. He could see Jared felt the same; he sprawled freely over his half of the booth, his legs stretched out under the table, occasionally knocking against Jensen's own when he shifted. They spoke of family and friends and jobs – Jared was a college senior, majoring in structural engineering, which made Jensen feel a hell of a lot more comfortable about the situation. The stripping thing was sexy as _hell_ , he wasn't enough of a hypocrite to deny that, but he felt better knowing it was temporary. He didn't like thinking of other people looking at Jared like he was on display. Even though he had no right to feel like this, and even though Jared _was_ on display, quite deliberately. He knew it was an irrational reaction, but as long as it stayed inside his head, it didn't have to matter.

He told Jared about his family, his brother and sister at home in Dallas, his prim grandma and his horses that he fretted over from a distance. He glossed over his work – there was just no way to make owning a hairdressing salon interesting – and they moved on to favourite movies, drinks, disastrous high school dates and coming-out stories. Before he knew it Jensen was watching the sky get light outside, his legs were comfortably entangled with Jared's, and they'd been holding hands for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like to be separated.

"You boys want some breakfast?" The waitress was back, her face split in two by a smile as she looked back and forth between them. "I could do up a double-sized breakfast special for sharing if you want."

Jared arched an eyebrow in query, and Jensen nodded.

"Sounds great," Jared said. "Thank you."

"Won't be half a tick," the waitress said, and refilled their mugs before she moved on.

Jensen rolled his shoulders, rolling his neck from side to side to stretch out the kinks. It was after five a.m., and he should be tired, but he felt full of energy, buzzing under his skin. Part of that was undoubtedly the caffeine, but the rest ... the rest was all Jared. Jensen was wholly fascinated by him to a degree he'd not felt for anyone in years, and he was already wondering how to hold on to this, how far it might take them. And underneath everything was the constant, low-burning ache of want that caused his breath to catch and his eyes to linger when Jared smiled or laughed or hell, _breathed_. It would be embarrassing - _was_ embarrassing – except that Jared seemed to be equally caught up in whatever they were building between them, and Jensen didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky but he wasn't about to question it. Not when he had almost everything he'd ever looked for sitting right across the table from him.

"Tired?" Jared asked, rubbing his thumb over Jensen's knuckles.

"A little." Jensen smiled. "I'm supposed to be at work in three hours. Don't think I'm going to make it in today, somehow."

"Oops." Jared's smile turned guilty. "Sorry. Didn't mean to keep you up all night."

 _You would've done that anyway._ "Don't worry about it," Jensen said. "What's the point in being the boss if you can't take a day off now and then?"

"You rebel." Jared affected a shocked expression.

"Meow. Saucer of cream, table one."

"Mm. I like cream."

Just like that, the mood snapped, and they went from easy and relaxed conversation to wire-taut restrained desire in less than a second. Jensen watched as Jared drew in a careful breath, not quite meeting his eyes, unable to do anything but imagine the two of them in the most debauched positions he could think of, for hours and hours without end, kissing, touching, sliding, fucking and fucking and fucking until sweat-gilded skin became too slippery to grip and they fell into unconsciousness, worn out, pressed together because they couldn't bear to be apart. He felt it in his bones, in his cock; he could see it in Jared's eyes, in the way his hand trembled around Jensen's fingers.

"I want you," Jensen said, his voice pitched low.

Jared closed his eyes briefly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Jensen watched with no pretence at discretion; Jared would've seen through it anyway, and he didn't care who else saw.

"I want ..." Jared said, opening his eyes, and Jensen was stunned at the almost savage need he saw reflected there, need that Jared had been hiding for God only knew what reason. It made his knees literally weak, made his palms sweat and his blood rush through his veins, so loud he almost didn't hear what Jared said next.

"I want time, Jensen."

"Time," Jensen echoed. "To do what?"

"To see if this is gonna burn out fast, or if it'll maybe last awhile," Jared said, and Jensen winced. Okay, he knew Jared was blunt. At least he was being honest. "I don't know about you, but I've been burned pretty bad once or twice because I fell into bed before I fell in ..." He paused, and Jensen's breath stuttered in his chest. "I want you," Jared went on. "A fuckin' _lot_ , Jensen. But I want to take this slow, all right? Slow and easy."

"You're going to kill me, you know that?" Jensen said, but he lifted Jared's hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his palm, and it was worth it when Jared smiled and traced his finger over Jensen's lips.

"We ain't neither of us gonna die from a little waiting," Jared said.

"Says you," Jensen grumbled.

"Says me," Jared agreed. "And trust me – I'll make it worth your while."

His gaze was hot and direct and it felt like he was stripping Jensen bare just by looking at him, and Jensen had to close his eyes and sit back, or else throw Jared over the table and fuck him through it. And since he'd just agreed to wait, he figured that wouldn't be such a great idea to foster Jared's trust. But damn, when Jared looked at him like that ...

"Here we go!"

The waitress banged a heavy platter of food down on the table, and Jensen's stomach rumbled alarmingly. He hadn't eaten in about ten hours, and he was suddenly starving. The platter held fried eggs and pancakes and bacon and thick buttered toast, and the most mouth-watering sautéed mushrooms he'd ever smelled, and for a second Jensen almost forgot Jared was even there. Almost; then their hands brushed as they both reached for the same piece of bacon, and Jensen looked up to see Jared's teeth flash white in a quick grin.

"Great minds think alike," Jared said, giving way to the bacon with a flourish.

Jensen filled his plate in a half-daze, wondering when he was going to win the state lottery. It was about the only awesome thing that hadn't happened to him in the past twenty-four hours. He caught Jared trying to stifle a yawn and pointed his knife at him.

"Speaking of people who're tired," he said, and Jared smiled around the yawn.

"Worth it. Besides, I don't have classes today. I'll go home and sleep some this afternoon, and be right as rain for work tonight."

"Can I – come watch you?" Jensen asked, hesitant.

Jared stared at him for a long moment, until Jensen thought he'd done something wrong by asking. Then he watched Jared swallow heavily and shift in his seat, and a flicker of heat shot through him.

"That'd be – yeah," Jared said, his voice dropping low. "I'd like that."

"Okay." Jensen gripped his knife and fork to keep his hands to himself. "What time?"

"Ten-thirty." Jared cleared his throat. "Same table. I'll make sure it's reserved for you."

Jensen went hot all over; this was as close to a private show as he was going to get for now, and he wasn't going to turn it down. He remembered the first glimpse of Jared he'd ever seen: bare thigh, muscular arm, very clearly naked or almost so, and he knew the day would pass in excruciating slowness.

"Thanks," he managed, and put down his cutlery. Hunger for food was gone, superseded by something much more ravenous. But since he couldn't actually have Jared stripped naked and spread out underneath him, thrusting and begging to be fucked, he could at least go home and jerk off to the image, and wait for the day to end.

"Finished?" Jared asked, and he nodded wordlessly. Jared raised his hand for the check; he seemed to feel what Jensen did, that they had to step back now and get some space, and so he didn't say anything when Jensen stood up and headed for the door, tapping out a cigarette as he went.

A minute later Jared joined him outside, hat parked once more on his head, and Jensen offered him the cig. He took a drag from Jensen's fingers, exhaling a thin stream of smoke toward the ground.

"I have to go," Jared said, shifting from foot to foot. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Ten-thirty," Jensen affirmed. He ducked his head, looking at Jared through his lashes. "You sure? I can stay away if—"

"No," Jared interrupted. "I want you to come. It'll be ... better, if you're there." He didn't expand on that; just surprised Jensen by leaning in and kissing him, deep and quick, and transferring his hat to Jensen's head when they parted. "Bring the hat," he said, and was halfway up the street before Jensen had recovered enough to speak.


End file.
